


Lie Better Next Time

by hitokiri



Series: it ain't over till it's over [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Billy needs to not, Bottom Steve, Homophobic Language, M/M, Top billy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 06:19:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12811482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hitokiri/pseuds/hitokiri
Summary: Billy taunts poor Steve on his after-shower hair habits, which leads to quite a bit more than a fistfight.





	Lie Better Next Time

**Author's Note:**

> I am really, really sorry for this. I love Steve with my entire heart, but this got in my head and wanted to be written. There's also not enough bottom Steve on here, and since I can't actually see Billy ever being a bottom, I needed to make myself feel better and torture my boy. Please forgive me.
> 
> They don't go all the way, but Billy is still forceful and Steve is still a bean. Protect him.
> 
> Stranger Things is not mine. I am but a worm.
> 
> All mistakes are mine, though, considering I've never had a beta before in my life.

"Holy shit."

Steve closes his eyes, hoping to god that the voice he just heard isn't actually Billy Hargrove's. He knows better.

"Harrington," Billy taunts, a smug tone to his already smug voice, "I knew there was something girly about you, but I never thought it was because you're actually a _queer_. Today is such a good fucking day."

Steve knew the risks. He knew that if he wasn't careful, anyone -- (Billy, of all people, fuck) -- could find him styling his hair after his shower at the end of practice. He knew. But he hated the way his hair laid flat from the shower, and frizzed once it dried, and thought the risk of going anywhere like _that_ would outweigh his haircare regime. He'd been doing this for as long as he's been styling his hair and he's never been seen. No one ever hangs back this late; school's over, everyone leaves and he's free to mess with his hair all he likes.

At least that was true until Billy Hargrove came to Hawkins. Billy seemed to make it his personal mission to ruin Steve's entire life.

"Listen, Hargrove, I don't want to mess around today." He tries to keep his voice as toneless as possible, to show that he's completely unshaken that he's been caught --

(He's the exact opposite.)

\-- but that proves impossible because Hargrove seems to _know_. He knows exactly how to get under Steve's skin, rip him open, and see every last deep secret he's ever harbored inside.

(Except for the Upside Down, and that night he and Billy had it out at the Byers' house; Steve will take that to his grave.)

They've been butting heads for months now. They've been at each other's throats constantly. They're polar opposites, separated by an entire spectrum of colors, Steve's side shining bright like the future he could have had with Nancy, while Billy sits in the dark, surrounded by self-deprecation and a defensive stance that Steve can't seem to decrypt. He hates Billy Hargrove, but he also feels a little bit sorry for him.

He won't let Billy destroy anything else in his already fragile world. Night terrors are already robbing Steve of sleep -- thoughts of something happening to any one of the kids he was looking after, of something happening to Dustin who seems to want to spend time with him more and more often now -- he doesn't need an asshole like Hargrove to take something else away from him.

So he does what he does best. He turns away from the mirror, locks eyes with Billy, and says, "Why, you interested, Hargrove? I never pegged you as the type."

He feels a little bit more like Steve Harrington before falling in love with Nancy Wheeler, before fighting demodogs, and before saving kids from something he didn't think could ever exist. He feels like the Steve Harrington that smoked cigarettes after school with Tommy and Carol, making fun of the geeks and dorks of Hawkins high, and laughing along as kids picked on the loser middle schoolers. He was never proud of the person he was, not once he learned what a shitty person he was thanks to Nancy, but he feels a sense of pride in himself now because he managed to stand up to Billy.

He wonders if Billy wouldn't have come after him so hot if he didn't let Nancy soften him up.

(He thinks he's grateful she made him a better person, and will never regret the year they spent together, or the kids he became friends with because of their relationship. Steve would die for those kids.)

"The fuck did you just say, fag?"

"I said," Steve replies, loud and strong, "That I think you're projecting your fantasies on me, Hargrove. Channel it down, I'm not into that. Although I am flattered."

Billy throws the first punch this time, hits Steve in the left cheek, sending him careening into the bank of lockers by the mirror he was using. His shoulder throbs where it makes contact, but his face goes numb almost immediately. The pain should have been white-hot, but he thinks adrenaline saved him because he regains his footing and sends his body throttling right into Billy's muscular torso. Billy lets out a grunt of discomfort, lets himself be backed against the lockers, then reverses their positions, pinning Steve face first against the cold metal.

Before Steve can push against the lockers and separate them, Billy takes hold of his wrists and locks them behind his back. "What's that, pretty boy?" he asks, breath hot and reeking of cigarettes against Steve's ear. His lips are chapped, scratching the shell of Steve's ear and causing a shiver to run down his spine. "Projecting my fantasies? I could show you plenty of fantasies. But I think we'll start with this one."

A sound similar to a whimper passes Steve's lips when Billy presses his soft dick against his ass and snakes his free hand around his waist, grabbing his dick through his jeans. Steve jerks in the hold, says, "Billy, what --" but Billy squeezes and Steve breaks off on a moan.

"Feel that, pretty boy?" He rocks his hips against Steve's ass. "Ever felt anything like this back here before? I bet I could make you come just by fingering you." He lets go of Steve's hands, satisfied that he's too weak now to fight against him. With two hands free, he wraps his other arm around Steve's waist and trails both hands down, grazing against his growing member and further down to spread his thighs and press him harder against the metal. Steve grunts, but can't find words. "I think that if I can make you come without touching your dick, then you really are a fag. Are you game?"

Steve knows there's no actual option. He knows Billy won't actually let him go if he says he's not game. But he also knows that if he agrees, Billy will laugh and tell him he's so eager to get fucked like the fag he is. There is no other alternative. Steve will lose either way.

"I said, Princess. Are. You. Game?"

The hand reaches up and squeezes his dick again, hard, and Steve whines, pressing his forehead against the cold metal. Breathes deep.

"I couldn't care either way," Billy says, tone flippant -- Steve thinks that if he didn't have him pinned, Billy would have shrugged -- his hands fumble with Steve's jeans, yanking them down. "You're going to come whether you realize you're a fag or not, queer. It must be why your girlfriend left you for that other queer. Does he have a bigger dick? Did you let him fuck you, Harrington? I'm sure my dick is even bigger than his, I hope you can handle it."

Clean white briefs and jeans hanging down to his knees, Steve shivers as tight jeans and an obvious hard-on press against his bare ass. It does feel big, rough denim pressing between his cheeks and making him bite his lip. He doesn't know what to do besides taunt him more. He hopes he can get Billy to stop without asking.

"Hey, Hargrove." Gone is the strength from his voice, his natural quips, his ability to sound like _Before_ Steve Harrington. He thinks he lost that when Billy fondled his dick through his jeans. "You're hard. You must really be queer, huh? Trying to cover up the fact that you just want me."

"Shut up."

"Listen, man, I get it. I do. But you're not my type and I sure as hell am not yours--"

"Shut. The fuck. Up."

Subconsciously, Steve did know it would backfire, but he doesn't know any other way of going down with dignity. He's not going to plead and beg this asshole to get off of him, or scream for help and hope that the janitor will be just out in the hallway and hear him. He'll take it, not because he wants it, but because he doesn't have the upper body strength to fight off someone like Billy Hargrove, and he wants it to be over with so they can never look at each other again.

The finger pressing against his previously untouched hole is a complete shock to him. He won't deny that he jumped from how sudden it was, but he will deny with his dying breath that it made him feel a spark of excitement.

He tried, once. To finger himself. He got in the bath, let his body soak up the water, and gently pressed his middle finger to the pucker. He remembers biting his lip and trying so hard to push, to get it through, because he heard Tommy talking once about how he fucked Carol in the ass junior prom night because they didn't have a condom and he was horny and she whined that she didn't want to get pregnant. Tommy said she moaned louder than she ever had before, and came harder than before. Her ass tightened around his dick and made him come earlier.

He was just _curious_ , okay? But it was uncomfortable and made him subconsciously clench to keep his finger out, and he gave up almost immediately.

He never thought about it again until today, now that a finger managed to push past the muscle and wiggle itself to the knuckle inside him. He gasped out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

He didn't realize Billy was talking until he heard, "There you are, Princess. I was worried for a minute there." The smug tone in his voice was disgusting. "Can't have you checking out on me now, pretty boy. I need you to be awake for all three fingers I'm going to stretch you open with."

_That_ got a reaction out of Steve. He clenched automatically, bearing down and trying to force the finger out, but that just made the sensation even more tight and uncomfortable. Fuck, if one is this tight in this confined space, how the hell is Billy going to fit _three_ fingers? And how the hell did Tommy get his entire dick in Carol's ass?

"Billy," Steve chokes out, "Come on, Billy, this isn't funny, it's--"

Three things happen at once:

Steve lets out a scream he didn't think capable of coming out of his sore throat at this moment in time.

Billy chuckles, almost dark and sadistic in nature, lips grazing Steve's ear again, breath warm.

And Billy's finger pushes the rest of the way in and lands spot on against something inside Steve that makes him see stars. His dick swells up against the locker -- surprisingly, since the metal is cold -- and he instinctively presses back to keep the tip of Billy's finger on that spot inside him. He thinks Billy wiggles the finger as much as he's able in a tight space, because it rubs against that spot inside him and sends lightning through his veins and ice down his spine.

"F- oh, fuck," he manages to stutter out, riding the shockwaves. " _Fuck_ ," he repeats, louder, and Billy snickers behind him, rubbing his finger again.

"See?" Billy says, all smug tones and false cheerfulness. "I told you you were a fag, queer." He pulls his finger out and backs away from Steve's trembling form, laughs again when he sees white trailing down the locker. Steve feels nothing but shame and loss. "Only fags come from a finger in their ass."

He can't bear to look, just waits with bated breath for the locker room door to slam, closes his eyes in shame when that laugh echoes through the door.

In the shower again -- he can't go home covered in his own come and smelling like Billy Hargrove's cigarettes and haughty attitude -- he jerks himself off to the thought of something bigger than Billy's finger pressing inside his ass, and comes with a cry of both shame and completion.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave me a review!


End file.
